So Big So Small
by asylumsession
Summary: Every year on his birthday, Todoroki Shouto puts on his best suit.


Every year on his birthday, Todoroki Shouto puts on his best suit. He gets a haircut and practices smiling in the mirror.

He pretends his mother is coming home.

(~~)

Shouto dreads his birthday.

Every year on January 11th, he feels the weight of crushing anger and loneliness like shackles: anger weighing down his left and loneliness on the right. Enji grows more restless with every year, pushes harder, fiercer.

"Shouto," he snarls, "I refuse to let this pointless rebellion of yours go on. You're nearly an adult."

 _He's just a child_ , his mother would've said.

But she isn't here to protect him. Not this time.

(~~)

"Todoroki-kun," Midoriya asks, when January starts, "are you okay?"

Shouto doesn't realize he's staring until Midoriya addresses him. He straightens, schooling his face into a neutral expression. For a moment, he sees Enji, he sees his father's face twisted in rage, unsmiling, unloving. He sees Todoroki Enji, wreathed in fire, reaching for him, and he braces himself.

(Soon, he'll feel the too familiar heat of his father's vicious flames, the way Enji's hand closes over his shoulder, his hair, his arm, grip tight, suffocating. Shouto thinks, _get away, get away,_ but bites his tongue and prepares himself-)

But when the fingers touch his cheek, it's Midoriya again, Midoriya with soft, concerned, green eyes. Midoriya with freckles, and not Enji with a feral snarl, a promise, a curse upon his lips.

"Todoroki-kun," Midoriya says again, softer, and Shouto takes a slow, shuddering breath.

 _January 11th_ , he thinks, _I hate that day._

By the way Midoriya looks at him, he thinks he must've said it aloud.

Deep, deep down, a little voice digs at him. _Should've never been born,_ it's saying, _nobody would've suffered._

(~~)

"Shouto," Fuyumi calls, sliding his door open, "what do you want for your birthday?"

Shouto doesn't look up. He stills, statue-like, gaze on his phone and fingers frozen over the screen. Three little dots bounce as Midoriya types.

 _I want-_

"Nothing," he says, when she doesn't immediately leave, "I don't want anything."

 _-her._

(~~)

Every year on his birthday, Todoroki Shouto puts on his best suit-

Every year on his birthday, Todoroki Shouto walks by the hospital-

Every year on his birthday, Todoroki Shouto _dreads dreads dreads-_

Every year on his birthday, Todoroki Shouto stares at the clock at it clicks to twelve A.M-

Every year on his birthday, Todoroki Shouto wishes, once again, that he was never born.

(~~)

Shouto can't think of a time he felt so _small._

(That's a lie. He remembers a time, years and years ago, when Enji drops his hand on Shouto's shoulder, squeezes _a warning_ and doesn't quite smile at person he's addressing.

"Oh, yes," Enji is saying, "I'm _very_ proud of Shouto."

Somehow, it feels as though his father has driven a knife into his side and _twisted_. It hurts far worse than any of his blows ever could.)

The morning of January 10th, the house's halls yawn before him, dark, silent, and empty. The silence should be unnerving, _is_ unnerving, for he knows that Enji's wrath could lie in wait behind any of these doors and Shouto is powerless to escape it.

He thinks about other kids, practically vibrating with excitement the day before their birthday.

He thinks about himself, cowering in the one place he _knows_ he should feel safe. He thinks about the way he'll sneak out of the house tomorrow to avoid his father's fury, and the way that nobody will wish him happy birthday because he won't have told anyone.

Shouto thinks about how small he feels in this overwhelming house, despite the fact that the walls feel as though they're closing in faster and faster the longer he's trapped here.

Shouto thinks about Midoriya's voice, saying, _Todoroki-_ kun, and his eyes, soft, concerned, asking, _are you okay?_

He's not.

(~~)

On January 11tth, Shouto wakes in a cold sweat. He jerks straight up with a gasp on his lips and a weight on his chest. His scar aches, thrumming with his pulse, reminding him of his nightmares.

 _Unsightly, unsightly, unsightly._

Shouto presses his right hand ( _cold, cold, cold_ ) over his left eye until the thrumming stops.

(Every year on his birthday, Todoroki Shouto puts on his best suit.

It's a little worn now, he notes, as he inspects it in the mirror, but that's okay. He'll change into his school uniform and go about his day as usual.

Fuyumi still sees him off with a soft _happy birthday_ , but Shouto can't bring himself to thank her.)

(~~)

"Todoroki-kun," Midoriya calls, crossing to his desk, "some of us are going to Yaoyorozu-san's house after school today. Can you come?"

Shouto blinks back at earnest green eyes. "What… for?"

"Um," Midoriya hesitates, exchanging a nervous, half panicked glance with Uraraka, who is watching none too subtly with Iida.

Iida, at least, has the courtesy to turn away and pretend he's working when Shouto looks over. Uraraka, however, throws her hands up in frustration and marches over, smiling.

"We're studying," she replies, "Yaoyorozu-san and Iida-kun are always saying it's a good idea to get ahead, so Deku-kun and I, along with some others, have decided to heed the advice!"

Shouto knows, instinctively, that they're lying. He knows he should refuse.

He agrees.

(~~)

Yaoyorozu welcomes him when he arrives. She pauses, squints at him, and then tips her head.

"You trimmed your hair," she comments.

"Yes?" Shouto frowns. "Is that… an issue?"

"No," says Yaoyorozu, "come in."

(~~)

Shouto follows Yaoyorozu to one of the home's many rooms for tea. It's suspiciously quiet within, given that his classmates are supposedly here.

"You got here first," Yaoyorozu tells him, as though sensing his thoughts.

She gestures for him to go in first and Shouto only lifts an eyebrow, before pushing the doors open-

-and promptly sending a streak of ice up the nearest wall when the _entirety_ of his class leaps at him.

(He's surprised to see Bakugou there, even, with a party horn in his mouth and a piss poor expression on his face.)

Midoriya reaches him first and grins his sunshine grin. "Surprise!" He's laughing. "Happy birthday, Todoroki-kun!"

"You didn't think you'd get away with not telling us about your birthday, did you?" Uraraka asks, coming up alongside Midoriya.

"I-"

For a moment, Shouto is genuinely at a loss for words. Yaoyorozu smiles as she puts a cake in the center of the table.

"You said… January 11th," Midoriya tells him, "and I asked Aizawa-sensei if it meant anything to him. Todoroki-kun… I know you probably don't enjoy your birthday. But I don't think anybody should dread such a special time, y'know? So I figured we could at least do _something_."

Shouto feels a very rare emotion swell in his chest, but he's learned to associate it with Midoriya, with friendship. _Happiness_ , someone would probably call it.

Shouto doesn't know if he's capable of being _happy_ , not quite yet, but a half smile still finds its way onto his lips when Midoriya takes his hand and leads him towards the cake and the rest of the (mostly) smiling class.

Every year on his birthday, Todoroki Shouto puts on his best suit. He gets his hair trimmed, he visits his mother in the hospital, and he celebrates with his friends.


End file.
